All Was Well
by motownchick
Summary: The story-painstakingly true to canon-picks up where we left off. See Ginny and Harry plus Ron and Hermione come together in a natural, unforced way. See the memorial service and get the closure you never had.
1. Empty

After Voldemort was slain, Harry remained at Hogwarts until the end of term, grieving with the families of the dead and rejoicing with the celebrators. It was déjà vu for many, as Harry Potter was once again The Boy Who Lived, the hero, though this time, Voldemort was gone for good.

Witches and wizards the world over poured into Hogsmeade to bid goodbye to the fallen heroes. In this, it reminded many of the weeks following Dumbledore's death. Lodging filled up almost immediately, so the dormitories were magically expanded to accommodate the families of students lost in the final battle.

It was a fragile time, as is often the case after death. Each person was exposed and vulnerable, every person grateful for the next. It was a hushed and peaceful time, like the beautiful silence just after the sun has sunk below the horizon. It would not last; but people, so immersed in their own deep sentiments as they were, stayed blissfully unaware of the transient nature of the circumstances.

Harry, the Weasley boys, and Neville lay slung in their respective crimson hammocks in the Room of Requirement, which lived on in all its glory as the temporary living quarters of Dumbledore's Army. The weather outside was bright and sunny, which the windowless room did not let on.

"It's all a bit surreal now," said Ron wistfully, wringing his hands.

"Yeah, it just seemed like it'd never end, you know?" added Charlie, "I don't know what we're going to do now it's over."

An awkward silence fell over the boys. They thought of Fred. George stared vacantly at the wood-paneled ceiling. A lone tear slid down his cheek. None of the other boys had ever seen him cry.

"I…I just…never thought," George choked on tears, "…that he'd be gone. I feel so...so..." He groped around for the right word while absentmindedly pulling stray threads from the hem of his jumper.

"Empty," finished Charlie solemnly.

No one knew what to say to comfort George. After a few minutes, Bill cleared his throat and said, "We can't just lie about and cry over him. He would've wanted us to be happy—I know he would. Remember all of his jokes? Remember the beetles in my soup?"

George chuckled softly. "That was _my _idea, you know."

"Remember the gnome on top of the Christmas tree?" asked Ron.

"And remember the fireworks we set on Umbridge?" asked George, slightly cheerier than before. "The look on her face was priceless!"

"And how you two Transfigured Percy's Head Boy badge?" added Harry.

Percy cleared his throat. "I was such a git to him. I feel horrible."

The suddenly lightened mood evaporated with his words.

"Don't, Percy. If you weren't so thick, we wouldn't have had any material," cracked George feebly.

Silence fell again. Harry looked at George and said, "George, you should be the one to give Fred's eulogy. You knew him best."

"Harry..." Suddenly George was choked up again; the brief glimpse of happiness had vanished faster than leprechaun gold. "He was my best mate, my partner in crime...I dunno. I don't think I can do it."

"It's all right George," Neville chimed in. "You don't have to do it."

"Course not," said Bill. "But, how about you pick who you want to speak?"

"Yeah," echoed the boys. Harry looked at George again. He saw a pain and vulnerability in his eyes that was never there before. He knew George would try to have a laugh for everyone else's sake, but it was a thin veil.

George looked pensive. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will," he muttered. "Thanks guys." Stricken with sudden realization, he leapt out of the hammock and strode towards the door. "I'll see you lot later."

Once everyone had dispersed from the Room, Ron, flushed and beaming, turned to Harry, who was cross once again now that everyone had gone. Though it had saddened him, Fred's death seemed to cause Ron, in the words of the common room password, to seize the day.

"Life's just too short, mate," said Ron.

"Tell me about it," snapped Harry.

"What the hell, Harry?" asked Ron. Harry had been irritable at the most random moments.

"Ron, I dunno what's gotten into me. I thought that killing Voldemort would make everything all right. And it did at first! But I still see them. . .all the time."

"Who?"

"Dobby. Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. Sirius. Lupin and Tonks. Fred." Ron winced.

"Harry, they're gone."

"I've figured that out for myself, thanks."

"Stop being such a bloody git!"

"Sorry." Harry hung his head. "It's just everyone's turning to me and I've got no one to turn to."

"What am I then? Corned beef? You're my best mate, Harry."

"I know. I _know_ I've been cross lately."

"Tell me about it," replied Ron.

"But I just—you're right. I have to just get on with it," said Harry decisively.

"Now you've got it!" Ron egged him on.

"I have to say my goodbyes, pay my respects, and start the next part of my life."

Ron nodded encouragingly; Harry continued, on a roll.

"I have to find a job, go back to Grimmauld Place and. . ." Harry looked startled at his own epiphany. He stood up and turned toward the portrait hole.

"And what?"

"And tell Ginny how I feel," said Harry, clambering out of the Room.

"Hang on, Harry!" called Ron. "I never said that!"


	2. Bitter Admissions

The headmaster's office, in its circular, glittering glory, was strangely silent. No one had set foot upon the stone floor since Snape. All of the former headmasters' and headmistresses' portraits were empty, their occupants roaming the castle in hopes of glimpsing the action.

The room's objects glinted in the bright sunlight, reflecting it in beams across the room. Dust was exposed in the shafts of light falling through the tall windows. Open windows gave the room its own spiral air current, and now and then a slight breeze swooped down and rustled the pages of an open book on the desk.

Several sharp knocks sliced through the stillness. The great oak door cracked slightly, and Hermione poked her head into the room. Her face was lined with tear tracks, her hair gathered messily upon her head. Her eyes, usually so warm and reassuring, seemed vacant, as if for once in her life she didn't have the answer.

"Is anyone here?" she called. "Hello? If no one minds I'd just like to sit in here for a...oh, never mind." She stepped briskly over the threshold and closed the door. She breathed deeply; her exhale shuddered a bit, as if she'd just stopped crying.

Hermione crept slowly toward the grand desk in the center of the room. She climbed several steps, and lowered herself in the beautiful, high-backed golden chair. For several minutes she just looked around, studying the intricacies of the office, wondering about everything, and nothing at all. She marveled at how the room itself was the birthplace of so much history. Suddenly, she wanted to know how it all had happened.

One of the swift breezes swept past her left shoulder and rustled the pages of the book in front of her. It was a leather-bound scrapbook of sorts, and one of the pieces of parchment tucked in it had come loose. She began to fix it, but curiosity overcame her. When had Hermione ever been able to resist opening a book? She hesitated, but promptly began to read the old and yellowing parchment.

_Sev,_

_My god, this Transfiguration class is dull! But I love Hogwarts; it's just as you said it would be. And Gryffindor's not nearly as bad as you were going on about, there's a fair amount of nice people (except that Potter we met on the train). I just wish we were in the same house, I feel as if we haven't talked since we got here. How was your first week?_

_Lily_

Hermione blinked and read the scrap again. _It's as Harry said._

"Snooping through my personal papers, Granger?" a sly and familiar voice sneered from behind her. Hermione jumped and the paper slipped out of her hands. She slowly turned around, knowing already whom the voice belonged to.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Granger," said Snape from his portrait. "I see you've been rifling through my things. No respect for the dead and gone, have you?"

"Oh, no sir, I just...the wind was blowing and it was open and-"

"Spare me the explanation. Couldn't see a book without reading it, eh? Well I suppose there's nothing I can do about it now." He sounded bitter and resigned.

"If you don't mind, Professor, did she-"

"We were friends; she lived a street over from me when we were young. None of your business. Though I'm sure _you_ of all people were wondering why beautiful, brilliant Lily Evans was writing to a slimeball like Snape." He insulted his teenage self in a rapid-fire manner, as if the words had waited decades to be freed.

"I wasn't-"

"Even as a mere portrait, I know when you're lying."

"Harry explained it to us."

"Spilled every detail to you and your dear Ron, I'll bet."

"No, Harry doesn't tell us _everything_, I'm sure. And how do _you_ know about Ron?"

"I thought you were brighter than that, Miss Granger. It's been _obvious_ for years, even Malfoy could see it." Hermione blushed at his words. After a pause, Snape spoke again, this time in a terse but raw tone that existed in him only because he had died and come to terms with himself. "Malfoy has always harbored a rather twisted respect for you, Granger."

Hermione was incredulous. "Malfoy? Surely you must be mistaken. It couldn't be—"

"I am not often mistaken, Miss Granger. You are so like Lily. She could never see it either; a loner tempted sorely by power, in love with a girl whose eyes betrayed her so often..." Snape trailed off; embarrassed. He had never meant to reveal that to anyone, let alone Hermione. He promptly nodded goodbye and walked out of his frame. Intrigued, Hermione sat at the desk once more and began to read the scraps of parchment when she realized something, turning it over and over in her mind: _Snape saved every note she ever gave him._


	3. Speaking of Food

"Oi, Harry!" shouted Ron from his spot under a tree by the lake. It was one of the few still standing after the turmoil that ensued during the battle. Debris still littered the grounds.

Harry jogged over to Ron and threw himself onto the ground, glad to be happy once more. "Hey mate, how're you doing?" Their jovial exchanges were a welcome lapse amid the stifling sadness.

"Can't complain," replied Ron. "You?"

"It's strange being here, you know? It's like it's not _ours_ anymore."

"Well, it _isn't._ You have the Burrow, and me, I've got Grimmauld Place and Kreacher."

"But you'll be bloody lonely with no one but that little toerag for company, no matter how good his treacle tart is," protested Ron.

"Yeah, I know. So I've been thinking you, Hermione, and Ginny could move in after all of the burials?"

Ron considered it very briefly. "Yeah, seeing as Mum's liable to burst into tears whenever anyone mentions Fred, and Dad just sort of stares into space a lot. It won't be the same at home for a bit."

"It's settled then. You'll all come live with me for a while. It will be just like when we were out searching for Horcruxes...'cept I'll have Ginny..."

Ron coughed and looked towards the castle. "Speaking of," he observed. "Here come Hermione and Ginny now."

Indeed, Hermione and Ginny were deep in conversation, their faces illuminated by the setting sun. Ron and Harry sat transfixed until Hermione spotted them. The girls-or now, this came as a startling shock to Harry and mostly, Ron—_women_ turned toward them and made their way over until they had settled beside their respective boyfriends.

Harry had a sudden wave of memory crash upon him as he laced his fingers between Ginny's. It was a recollection of the time Sirius had asked him to come to live with him—on those very same shores. Harry remembered the bliss, the hope; a feeling now magnified a million times by the absence of fear. Though the words they spoke were tainted with sadness, the overwhelming hope suppressed the pain.

Harry flopped back onto the grass and one by one, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione followed suit. They gazed up at the peachy clouds and Harry spoke.

"Hermione, Ginny…Ron and I were just thinking and-"

"Uh oh," interrupted Hermione, grinning.

"Thinking?" remarked Ginny, "Ron, don't you remember the last time you tried to think?" The two young ladies giggled.

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, though they were secretly relieved that this proof of Hermione and Ginny's remaining girlhood had surfaced.

"Anyway, I want all of us to live at my place. Grimmauld Place, that is." The girls seemed to wrap their minds around that thought for a moment.

"Well I think it's a lovely idea Harry," said Ginny. Harry grinned sheepishly at her.

"It'd make for a lovely summer," agreed Hermione.

"We'll start our new life all together, and with Kreacher at our beck and call-" began Ron.

"Ron!" scolded Hermione. The tips of Ron's ears flushed scarlet as he remembered her fondness for house-elves.

"Of course we'll pay him and let him work when he wants to and those sorts of things. . . " Ron humored Hermione before shaking his head nearly imperceptibly to Harry. The two obviously were going to take advantage of Kreacher's cooking and bed-making services clandestinely.

"Speaking of food, it's nearly time for dinner," added Ron, staring longingly at the castle.

"Ginny and I ate at the Three Broomsticks," said Hermione. "But go on, I can hear your stomach from over here."

"I may as well go along," said Harry, feigning indifference. He stood and pulled Ginny away from the other two for a word. "We'll see each other later?"

"Of course Harry. But now that the Room is occupied, where can we go that won't be quite as packed?" asked Ginny worriedly.

"I've thought about that too, Ginny. Ask Hermione if she knows the password to the Prefects' Bathroom. It's the only place I could imagine would be untouched by the battle."

"Okay," said Ginny, eyeing him curiously.

"Fourth door to the left of the fifth-floor statue of Boris the Bewildered, nine o' clock." And Harry kissed her forehead as Ron said his hasty, hungry goodbye to Hermione.

Ginny rejoined Hermione and the pair watched Harry and Ron's retreating backs affectionately as Hermione pondered aloud about Ron's assertions, "We were speaking of food?"


	4. You Will Be

That night was twinkling with stars, and the Room thus unoccupied when George knocked on the wood next to the quarters of his best friend Lee Jordan. Lee lay in a red hammock, flicking his wand at a stray shoelace, untying and retying the knot.

"Come in," called Lee, letting the shoelace drop and sitting up. "George?"

"Surprised to see me?" George sat down next to Lee.

"I'm not surprised to see you; you're my best mate. But since when do you knock?"

"Oh, that," chortled George. "Er, I just thought you might want some privacy, you know." Lee nodded, catching the somber allusion.

"So, how're you?" asked Lee, though he already knew the answer.

"Okay, I 'spose."

"No you're not. Neither am I. But we will be. We will."

George nodded unconvincingly. Lee looked him right in the eyes and saw a mirror image of his own grief. He clapped a hand on George's slumped shoulders, and before they knew it, they were hugging. Lee felt a tear roll down his cheek, but quickly brushed it away. He had cried already. Fred wouldn't have wanted him to. The boys released each other and were embarrassed for a few seconds before realizing the gravity of the situation. George swallowed hard and spoke.

"Lee?"

"George?"

"Would you, er, like to do Fred's eulogy?"

"George…George you should-"

"No!" replied George, with unnecessary sharpness; he caught Lee's shaken expression and softened his tone. "I mean, no, I don't think I can manage to—"

"I understand." They looked at each other.

"Just do me a favor and make it funny; we could all use a good laugh around here."

"Funny is my business!" exclaimed Lee, startling even himself. "Let's go get a butterbeer. Since when have we ever turned in at nine o' clock?"

"Since—" But Lee cut George off and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Looks like you need that butterbeer more than anyone!"


	5. New Beginnings

At that same moment, Ginny was walking along the fifth-floor corridor. She saw Harry in the middle of the corridor, standing before a plain wooden door.

"Do you have the password?" asked Harry.

"Squeaky clean." The door opened and Ginny gasped at the beauty of the room's abundance of white marble, lit by a soft glow emanating from a candle-filled chandelier.

"Blimey, Harry!"

"I know, it's amazing, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Ginny began investigating each of the golden taps, intrigued. Out of one poured the thick foam Harry had once wanted to test with his weight. Vividly blue bubbles burst from another. Suddenly, as Ginny knelt beside yet another gleaming tap, Moaning Myrtle zoomed out of it and floated above them.

"Oh, Harry! You're back!" she cried.

"Er, yeah," Harry said sheepishly as Myrtle swooped down to his level, completely ignoring Ginny.

"You have no idea how _dreadful_ it's been without you! Everyone here was gloomy and I mostly kept to my U-bend, just minding my own business when—"

"Look, Myrtle, it's nice to have seen you and all, but you see _Ginny_ and I," (he put his arm around Ginny pointedly), "came here for a little privacy…and if you could just, er-"

"Oh, I get it," whined Myrtle, her previous frenzy significantly subdued. "You don't want me here. I can't say I blame you. I mean no one wants—"

"No, Myrtle," protested Ginny halfheartedly, "It's not that we don't want…"

Myrtle continued over Ginny's reassurances. "—poor, ugly, terrible, moaning Myrtle!" She heaved a great, reverberating sob and dove into a tap with a shriek and a gurgle.

"Well, that could've gone better," quipped Harry, squeezing Ginny's shoulder gently.

"Just a tad," she countered. "Harry, you didn't take me here to…take a bath…did you?" She turned to him nervously. "Not, that…that I wouldn't want to or anything but—"

Harry laughed. "Of course not, Ginny. We're not quite ready for that yet, are we?"

Ginny let out her breath and they sat on one of the marble benches. Harry pulled her legs onto his lap and she leaned into a corner. "So, what did you have in mind then?" she asked.

"We've missed a lot, and I want to know all of it. I used to sit on watch and trace your dot on the Marauders' Map for hours. I'd even tell it, 'Goodnight,' every so often. I'd scrounge for any bit of news about you and Neville and Luna…but mostly you." Ginny smiled at him affectionately.

"Dean, Mr. Tonks, and two goblins once camped right outside our tent."

"Dean was there?"

"Yes." Harry swiftly closed this particular line of questioning. "They mentioned how you lot had smuggled the sword out of Snape's office and been punished—though that time just with Hagrid. But Neville…" Harry shuddered. "Neville told us they had begun using the Cruciatus Curse…_teaching_ the Cruciatus Curse. You could have been hurting all that time and I couldn't be there!"

"It was awful, Harry," Ginny said in a small voice. "But what kept us at it was knowing you were out there, and it was probably worse where you were."

"Tell me, Ginny. Tell me what happened. To make up for lost time. Ron, Hermione and I told our story yesterday."

He put his hand on top of hers as she began to speak.

Ginny told of the nerve-racking train ride, of the dementors seizing Muggle-borns from the compartments. She described the secret missions that the D.A. carried out under Neville's leadership, and the horror of punishment.

"There was the Cruciatus Curse, that was a regular. But remember when Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret?" Harry nodded, sickened by what he felt was coming. "Well, Crabbe and Goyle seemed to have gotten bored with mainstream torture, so they took to Transfiguring people into awful creatures…Flobberworms, Skrewts, Manticores…then they set them on other students. They always turned them right in the end but…" Harry listened, aghast, as she recounted tale after tale.

"And then I went into hiding. Not so soon after Neville, but not long before you came. And the rest, you know."

"Ginny, if I'd have known…"

"You wouldn't have come back. You knew what you had to do. You'd only have worried more."

Harry did not refute this, though its verity triggered a twinge of anguish. "But Ginny, I could have protected you."

"I took care of myself, Harry! I can, you know," she retorted. "You took care of the entire Wizarding World. You don't have to take care of me."

Harry was taken aback. "I'm sorry Gin. Sometimes I just wish this hadn't had to happen. Wish they'd never died."

She looked up at him. He stared into her warm brown eyes and smiled. After so many months of doubt and longing, after sleepless nights of tracing her dot on the map, and after he thought he might never see her again, she was there. Sitting right next to him. She was beautiful.

Their hands fell together, fingers intertwined. "We're ready, Harry."

"For what?"

"For this new life. We have the whole world in front of us now."

"No Voldemort to stand in the way," he added. He thought of the huge barrier that was now gone and could see ahead to months, even years with Ginny. Like the Room of Hidden Things, destroyed by Fiendfyre, relics of his old life had become bygones, fading quickly in the warmth of rehabilitation. Though it survived to serve its purpose, Harry was sure the Room of Hidden Things had been purged of centuries' worth of incriminating objects. So too, had his life been purged of the burden of fear. He could get a job, live in his house, and be with Ginny and his best friends. No more twists and turns.

"It's a little hard getting used to, isn't it?" asked Ginny.

"You read my mind. It's just, what's left to do? I know there's so much more out there that I dunno where to begin."

"Begin with living in the moment. Begin with me."

"With you? Now I could manage that…" Harry smiled. "Where should we start?"

"Well, I'm Ginny."

"Hello there, Ginny, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his free hand and she shook it, laughing. "I think I love you, Ginny."

"I love you too, Harry."

They grinned at each other, amused at first, then they each came to their senses and he lowered his voice. "I always have."


	6. Breakfast Shenanigans

Harry and Ginny emerged from the bathroom the next morning, rumpled and bedraggled (Harry's hair stuck up even more, if at all possible). They had talked late into the night, punctuating deep conversation with even deeper kisses, finally falling asleep on a bed of towels. They walked hand in hand down the stone corridor, squinting a bit. Harry didn't remember the sunshine being this bright.

At breakfast, Ron accosted them. "Where _were_ you guys last night? I knew you had a date but—"

"Were you staying up in the Room waiting for us, Ronald?" inquired Ginny.

"Erm…yeah. But you didn't come!"

Harry gave him a look of bemused reproach.

"What were you doing all night?" asked Lee, a few seats down.

"Oh, so now you're in on this too?" asked Harry, half-joking.

Neville sat down on Ron's right. "Finally found these two then, did you Ron?"

"You told Neville too?" cried Ginny.

"Well he was in the Room with me and—"

"Wait, so did you guys, like-" began Lee fervently, gesticulating unintelligibly with his fork. A bit of egg waggled indecently on its tines.

"What?" said Harry.

"Well you were there all night!" exclaimed Lee.

"I swear Harry, if you did—" began Ron.

"WE WERE TALKING!" shouted Harry.

Silence fell, until Lee snorted, "Sure, that's what they all say."

"Harry, you better not have—" Ron began again, glaring sternly. He trailed off vaguely as his ears attained an unprecedented level of scarlet.

"For the final time, we were _talking_!" No one looked satisfied, but Ginny quickly changed the subject.

"Where's Hermione?"

"No idea," answered Ron. "Last I saw her she was going to bed." The table was awkwardly silent. "Bet she's reading."

Harry served himself some bacon and eggs. Lee leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "So, you really didn't do _anything_?"


	7. Carpe Diem

Hermione was drawn back to the Headmaster's study. She peeked in and exhaled when she saw Snape was missing from his frame. _I wonder where he has another portrait._

She stepped inside and swiftly shut the door, then sat down in the ornate desk chair. The scrapbook was on the desk, untouched since her last visit. She longed to know more about the secret letters of Snape and Lily. It was as riveting as any book she'd ever pored over, in part because it was a true tale. She gingerly picked up a piece of yellowing parchment, a response to the first note she'd encountered.

_Lily-_

_First week's been all right. Potter and Black seem to have taken an instant hatred to me. Not looking forward to flying lessons with those gits, though I'll finally get to see you. Transfiguration will get better though, hardly anyone can turn it into a needle on the first try._

_-Severus_

She flipped through the notes, reading the responses passed in class or sent by owl. Lines from certain notes stuck out in her mind:

_I've become friends with a few other Slytherins: Avery, Nott…—__**Are you going anywhere for the holiday, Sev?**__ —I'll think I'll just stay here, I'm sure my mum doesn't want me to burden her—__**Well I'll miss you at home**__—I'll miss you too, Lily._

Hermione read through what seemed to be an entire year of writing before she stumbled upon a single page ripped from a journal-_Lily's_ journal.

_5 June 1972_

_ It's nearly the end of first year. It's gone so very fast! I've met so many people and I learned so many things! (I can make a pencil do somersaults—Professor Flitwick even says that's a bit advanced for my year). My dormitory has been great fun, with Emmeline and Hestia, Marlene and Alice. I couldn't be in Sev's house but I'm just glad I get to see him. He understands so much. I hate it when they make fun of him, Potter and Black. I can't bear it. They don't see him as he really is: kind and caring. If only everyone could see it as I do. They're such gits, jinxing anyone passing by just to prove they can. I've had enough of their egos, all four of them, though Lupin's not nearly as bad as the rest. I'll head down to the end-of-term feast now, Ravenclaw has won the cup thanks to all of the points Potter and his lot lost for us. I'll catch up with Sev on the train; we've still got quite a bit to talk about! And the summer holiday will be just the two of us. I'm looking forward to it, though Sev's new friends aren't the kindest of people._

_ —Lily_

Hermione put down the entry, understanding why he'd nicked it. She noticed the sunlight flooding through the windows and realized the others must be wondering where she was. She stepped out onto the spiral escalator and descended from the office, then headed towards the common room.

_Should I ask Harry?_ she pondered. _I have so many more questions._

Hermione kept up a running debate in her mind, trusting her legs to know where they were going. She sighed as she reached the Fat Lady, knowing she couldn't possibly ask Harry yet.

"Password?"

"Carpe diem."


	8. Not Yet Finished

The portrait hole swung forward to reveal a full common room; everyone had gathered there out of habit and they were obviously in a considerably lighter mood than the usual as of late. She smiled, not wishing to crush the delicate happiness with her brooding thoughts.

"Hermione!" called Ron. "Where've you been?"

"Just in the library."

"We're not in school anymore, you do know that, right?" he retorted.

"Hang on, you've not been going to classes, have you?" joked Lee Jordan.

"Well Harry, Ron and I haven't gotten our N.E.W.T.S."

"So?" asked Ron.

"So we're not finished here yet!"

"I'm finished, Hermione," said Harry.

The others tactfully pretended they had somewhere to be and shuffled out of the common room, mumbling things about being late for meals and needing fresh air.

"You're not seriously considering coming back to Hogwarts to finish _school_?" asked an incredulous Ron.

"Well, yes, perhaps I am!"

"Hermione," reasoned Harry, "There's nothing left here for us."

"What about our educations? We didn't come this far here to bail on our most important year."

"Come off it now, you sound like my mum," said Ron.

"I reckon we learned enough while we were out hunting for bits of Voldemort's _soul_," added Harry.

"I know, I know. I just don't feel right leaving it so open like this," Hermione huffed, exasperated.

"You're mad," stated Ron definitively.

"Talk to McGonagall. She might let you just take them and get it over with," offered Harry.

"Yeah, cause you're not leaving Grimmauld Place in September to come back here," insisted Ron.

"Okay," said Hermione. "But you can't control me Ronald! If I choose to—"

"Come on, let's go find the others," prompted Harry. Ron and Hermione grumbled under their breath, but ventured out of the portrait hole nonetheless.

A/N: Please, please review! This is my first fic _ever_ so I'm dying for all feedback, good and bad! (Yes, I really do want the criticisms too!)


	9. Career Advice

Harry, Ron, and Hermione found the others eating lunch at the Gryffindor table, discussing their future careers amidst rubble from the final confrontation.

"I'm going to the shop with George," said Lee, and George nodded.

"Ron can come too," said George.

"Nah," said Ron. "I might want to work at the Ministry, like Dad."

"How 'bout you, Harry?" asked Lee.

"Well, I think I'm going to become an Auror."

"You've been wanting to forever," added Hermione. "Ever since Moody."

"Yeah, but I reckon I'd like to keep my face the way it is."

"Where're you going, Hermione?" piped up Neville.

"Oh, probably to the Ministry. I'm going to take the house-elf rights issue to the courts."

"Granger takes S.P.E.W. to the next level," prodded George. "I can just see the headlines!"

"Very funny," said Hermione.

"Well we're not sitting here all day, are we?" asked Lee, springing from his seat. The others followed suit, to Ron's muffled protests (he was mid-bite).

"Quidditch anyone?" asked Harry. The group murmured their agreement. "I'll fetch Ginny—she nodded off in the Room."

He left for the seventh floor as the group chattered excitedly, picking teams and bragging about their skills. He wished they could stay together like that forever.

TVTVTVTVTV

The sun was setting as they gathered in the Three Broomsticks for a post-match celebration. Harry, Ginny and Lee had crushed Ron, George, Hermione and Neville by at least three hundred points.

"We beat you, we beat you," sang Lee as they sat down at a table. He winked at Madam Rosmerta and signaled her over.

"A round of firewhiskey for all!" Lee proclaimed.

"You've got it," replied Madam Rosmerta.

Their drinks came and Lee proposed a toast. "To Fred!"

"To Fred!" everyone echoed.

TVTVTVTVTVTV

The Room was especially quiet that night; the blank black sky was inscribed with each of their nighttime thoughts. The funerals were tomorrow.

A/N: Keep reviewing! Please! Love and hugs:)


	10. Out With a Bang

Funeral day dawned clear and blue. Everyone donned their Hogwarts black in mourning. The Great Hall teemed with people milling about in the same uniform; this made it seem nearly like old times, though the occasion was horribly, horribly wrong. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed close—this wake was the sort of thing they had to do together; Ginny wordlessly understood. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley received endless condolences. Flowers bloomed upon the caskets of the fallen heroes.

The martyrs were to be buried at sundown, in a rolling moor just beyond the Quidditch pitch. When the time came, everyone made their way out to the thousands of golden chairs. A purple carpet ran the length of the center aisle towards a vast marble table. Once everyone had settled, the small, tufty-haired minister who had presided over Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding (was this man everywhere?) stepped up to begin the service.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to remember the people who have given their lives to free us from a most terrible evil. We must honor them, by working towards harmony each and every day, through love. The mystery of love…"

The tufty-haired minister's singsong voice washed over Harry. He had never been one for lectures, and today was no different. How could anyone sum up their loss in just a few words, no matter how sincere?

Harry inhaled sharply, shivering in spite of the muggy evening air. He tried to banish the ache in his stomach and the heat building behind his eyes. A shudder to his right told him Hermione had lost her own battle for composure. Harry swallowed hard and gripped her hand tightly, steeling himself for the eulogies, willing himself to be strong, if only for the sake of his dear friend.

Harry hadn't noticed the minister concluding his solemn invocation until a crushing silence fell over the crowd.

The minister struck up a funeral march with his wand; Harry was suddenly reminded of his first night at Hogwarts, when the twins had sung along to a similar tune. His lips twitched into a rueful half-smile, inducing an onslaught of raw emotion.

Hermione squeezed his hand, whispering, "Harry, behind you." Harry craned his neck and peered down the center aisle.

A glittering glass casket floated towards the front of the crowd, ensconced in a halo of soft, golden light. Inside lay Ted Tonks, whose body had recently been recovered. His hands were clasped peacefully upon his torso; to an onlooker, he might have been asleep. The casket landed gently on the marble slab.

The minister said a prayer and Andromeda Tonks came forward to give the eulogy, with baby Teddy asleep in her arms. As she finished, she conjured a single pink flower on her husband's chest and retreated, her stoic façade finally crumbling.

White light radiated from the body. Spirals of smoke curled into the sky, turning the shimmering glass to solid marble. With a flick of his wand, the minister sent the casket to its final resting place. Dirt filled itself in and a white headstone appeared above the grave.

And so it went. Colin Creevey. Gornuk. A memorial for Mad-Eye. Scores of unfamiliar faces—Aurors, villagers, unknown students—had died to aid Harry's triumph. Every spouse's wail of sorrow tore through Harry's conscience. It was painful goodbye after painful goodbye.

When Remus and Tonks were laid to rest, Harry's eyes alighted upon sweet Teddy, whose hair was as tenaciously turquoise as ever. A pang of sorrow for all he had ever lost coursed through Harry's heart. He would be there for Teddy like no one had ever been for him. Harry clasped Hermione's hand ever tighter as he let his first tears of the day stream silently down his face.

Finally, the meadow had become a sea of marble headstones glowing brightly against the ombré dusk. Hagrid came down the aisle bearing the final body. A tuft of red hair escaped the corner of its violet shroud.

George sat on the wide sill of a window in the North Tower, leaning back against the stone. He watched the funeral progress, the knot in his heart growing tighter and tighter. Every time someone was buried, he silently pleaded for Fred to pop up and pronounce it all a grand joke.

He opened and closed his eyes several times; it wasn't going away. He considered going down there, but he couldn't let everyone see him like this. Not when they were all being so strong. George sighed and closed his eyes as another was buried.

"Not regretting anything now, are we?" sneered a cold voice. George whipped around. The Bloody Baron hovered before him.

"No," snapped George bitterly. "What are you doing here? Piss off."

"Oh, getting rude, are we now?"

"Shut up."

"Fine then, you nasty little blood traitor. Just know this: I never got over my regrets; I put a dagger in my heart because of them. If you don't go down there, you'll end up like me. Chained." The Baron glided through a wall.

His words struck a chord with George. He leapt up and bounded down to the Room of Requirement. Grabbing several boxes of Deflagration Deluxe, he dashed downstairs to the Entrance Hall and out to the grounds. Lee was getting up to speak. Swallowing hard, George decided to let Fred go out in style, and set off towards the moor.

That marked the first nice thing the Baron had done since his death over a thousand years before. He seemed to make a habit of it after that. The Grey Lady and he became quite the ghostly item.


End file.
